


Starcrossed Fate

by Little-Hufflepuff (Peyton_Stark)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Puppy Harry, Slash, Submissive Harry, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peyton_Stark/pseuds/Little-Hufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the son of werewolf hunter James Potter is turned by a rogue wolf the boy is dragged from his simple life and thrust into the world of werewolves. Finding out he is a submissive and the mate to Fenrir Greyback makes Harry's transition difficult FG/HP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Watching Moon

"Harry, sweetie! Hurry up, the barbeque is starting." Harry let a small groan fall from his lips, the pages of his book fluttered and he lost his place, pushing off his mattress and subsequently dropping the dog eared novel to the floor the adolescent scrambled to his feet, stumbling slightly over his too long jeans that bunched at his feet. The sound of his mother coming up the creaky stairs made him quickly slip on a t-shirt, hiding his thin stomach. He had always been self-conscious about his diminutive frame.

Running his fingers through his untidy hair, Harry jogged from his small room, "coming, mum!" he replied and met her halfway down the flight of stairs. Her long auburn hair was swept up into a messy tangle on top of her head and her lips were painted in soft red lipstick. They had just moved from Scotland to the small town of Middleton, an out-of-the-way mountainous area that was nestled close to England. In between his parents finding new jobs and Harry settling into his new school they had organized a barbeque to get to know their neighbours; something Harry had very little interest in.

His mother gave him a smile. "Your friends from school are here, and that pretty oriental girl, Cho was her name?" Harry nodded, not too thrilled about his admittedly few friends turning up. He wasn't good at socializing with large groups and his stomach roiled with trepidation. The same kindly smile was still on his mother's lips as she reached for his wrist and bodily dragged him down the rest of the stairs. For someone so tiny she was strong.

"It's only a few hours and then you can go back to your reading, bubby." She said with sympathy, Harry grimaced at her nickname for him but let it slide as they neared the front door. His mother had a penchant to coddle him, smothering him with motherly affection whenever possible – Harry had a hunch it was because he was an only child, that and his mother was generally a very maternal woman.

Letting Harry's wrist drop from her hold Lily turned to him, "We have your favourite," she commented and pushed open the heavy wooden door. "Tofu and veggies! You love them barbequed right?" Harry gave a small huff of laughter at the eager expression in his mother's bright eyes.

"Just because I'm a vegetarian doesn't mean I adore tofu, but it's pretty good barbequed." He admitted with a grin twisting his lips. His mother was quite fond of organic foods and the likes, going so far as to grow her own vegetables when possible, perhaps that's where Harry got his tendency to eat the many array of vegetables she offered him, for as long as he could remember he hadn't enjoyed meat. He father was the complete opposite and loved his meat, steak was his favourite and he always made a point of telling Harry how much he was missing out whenever he had some. Harry expected today would be no different.

Just as he entered the large front garden his father's voice called out to him, "Got some lean, prime steak cooking, Harry, can you smell the lip-smacking goodness?" Harry rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out. His father always made remarks towards his eating habits; they were only ever light-hearted however. Scanning his eyes around the garden Harry took in the small amount of people who had showed up so far.

His three friends, Ron, Cho and Hermione sat around a wooden table, soda's in hand as they laughed and talked amongst one another, Harry gave a smile when Hermione slapped Ron's arm in admonishment and the redhead's ears went pink. His father was manning the cooking food in a very territorial way, he joked with a rounded, balding man that Harry recognized as a neighbour two houses down. A few other people were scattered about the garden and Harry made quickly for his friends, immediately Cho stood up and embraced him warmly, her flowery scent strong and almost overpowering.

The girl pulled back, she was an inch shorter then Harry and the only girl in his grade that was in fact shorter then him. 

"Hi mate, nice house." Ron said and gestured to the cottage like residence, Harry smiled and scooted onto the bench seat, Cho followed quickly, pressing her thigh up against his. Harry's cheeks turned bright pink and he coughed uncomfortably. He wasn't sure if his stomach squirmed in pleasure or disgust but chose to ignore it.

Hermione opened her lips to speak but was interrupted by James' voice declaring the food was ready for eating, Ron jumped to his feet and dashed away quickly.

"He only ever thinks about food," Hermione said and shook her head, her bushy hair fell into her face and she huffed, "I swear he will end up a fat old man if he keeps eating like this." Harry snorted in amusement and watched Ron grab two large servings of steak, a sausage in bread and three rissoles. It was a wonder Ron wasn't already big around the middle. Instead the boy was gangly and tall, his arms and legs seemed far too long for his body.

"Come on then, let's get some food before he eats it all on us." Hermione said wryly, Harry shook his head and got to his feet, feeling a little more comfortable about the barbeque. As much as he enjoyed his friends company he was reminded about just how much different he was to kids his own age. He was shy and preferred the company of his books to others; he had always been reclusive even when he was a little boy. Despite his quiet nature he had a fierce temper; his father always said he got it from his mother and joked it was the redhead gene at play.

 

* * *

 

The low hum of the music playing from the stereo, which was resting precariously on the window ledge of the living room, was soothing. The window had been opened to allow James and Denner, the balding man, to hook it up to a power point. Both men were now relaxing with a beer and praising their handy work. Harry rested his chin in his palms and watched a few elderly neighbour’s dance to the music. Harry sat slumped over the surface of the wooden table, the steady breathing from his right told him Cho was still next to him, she had made a show of staying by his side the entire evening, much to Harry's slight discomfort. Hermione was conversing with a group of women she appeared to know and Ron was around scabbing scraps of food where possible.

"The moon's going to be bright tonight." Cho stated and Harry jumped, he turned to face her, her dark hair spilled down her shoulders in a sheet of black, it was shiny in the darkening light and Harry had the odd urge to touch it, just to see if it was as soft as it looked. "Don't you think?" she questioned when Harry didn't reply, he nodded and looked up at the rising orb, it was full and already glowing luminescent.

Cho sighed and leaned closer to Harry, her hair brushed his exposed forearms and Harry was shocked at the thickness of it, it wasn't silky like his own, but heavy. "I've enjoyed tonight." The girl said and gave Harry a sweet smile. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Have you?" Harry had stayed at the table most of the evening, only venturing off when his mother had called for him to greet some random people, Cho had been glued to his side, and surely the girl hadn't had a good time. Even Harry was bored with himself. Her expression changed and she gave a giggle, it was high-pitched, her hand rested over his own and she leaned closer.

"You're so cute when you look like that," she whispered and Harry thought she was about to do something he wasn't entirely sure he wanted, "all confused and pouty." She breathed and her warm breath ghosted over his lips, he licked them impulsively and just caught the sight of murky, brown eyes and a slightly upturned nose before Cho's lips pressed tightly to his own. Harry's first reaction was to freeze, he allowed the soft lips to move against his, the girl was breathing heavily through her nose and vaguely Harry realized he was supposed to be enjoying this and responding, instead he was stock-still and holding his breath. He'd never been kissed before and had imagined it would have been different – more mind-blowing, fireworks in the sky, shaky knees, like. He was disappointed.

A startled scream saved Harry from analysing his emotions surrounding the kiss, Cho pulled away quickly, her eyes wide as she stared at something beyond Harry's shoulder. Harry furrowed his brows and turned, his heart instantly stuttered and bashed painfully at his ribs. Not six feet away, standing framed in the gateway was a large, pitch black dog – no, not a dog, it had to be a wolf. The animals body was large and would have come up to Harry's bellybutton had he been standing up. Its dark gaze was unsettling as it swept the stationary crowd, hackles quivering. Harry swallowed thickly and could hear Cho's rapid breaths.

"Everybody stay calm, don't move or make any sudden movements." Harry's entire body shivered in relief when his father spoke up, James' voice was quiet but stern and every one of the guests’ attention was focused on him. Cho reached out and took Harry's hand in her own; her skin was clammy and cold but it didn't matter, Harry was thankful for the minor comfort.

The wolf's throat rumbled with a growl, the guests flinched and Harry's heart jumped into his throat, almost suffocating his breathing. It was going to attack! The shadowy wolf gave another low growl and its hackles rose, baring its sharp, dirtied teeth to the watchers. Harry's stomach flipped at the menacing sight and Cho's hand tightened its grip.

Large paws took a tentative step closer and if Harry hadn't been aware of the saliva dripping from the wolf's canines he would have thought the animal was hesitant to approach the humans, it seemed more likely that the wolf was stalking closer for the attack and Harry's eyes flew quickly to his father's figure that stood near the front door; the man was frozen and appeared to be thinking. Harry hoped he would do something soon, and had a childish thought that because his dad was here everything would be alright.

The wolf snarled when a small figure shifted next to the barbeque and Harry recognized it as Hermione, he made to stand up, but Cho grasp his hand firmly and whispered a startled breath of words into his ear, " _don't_ – it'll see you," Harry caught the sound of her breath hitching in her chest and closed his eyes, hating how scared she sounded.

No one dared to move even as the wolf approached the shivering girl, her awry hair was plastered to her forehead and cheeks from sweat and her lips were pale and dry from the shallow breaths she was taking. Harry's stomach dropped out of his pelvis and his skin flushed cold when the animal snapped its jaws at Hermione, strings of saliva spraying into the air, Hermione whimpered and the wolf took another step closer.

Harry's entire body was rigid and he felt his head spinning dizzily as he watched Hermione scurry backwards, the wolf just increased its pace and kept on coming for her. He had to do something, or his father had to tell everyone what to do – the bloody animal was about to attack Hermione! Just as Harry was about to release his tight muscles and spring into action a large, heavy object was pitched passed his head.

"Piss off you mutt!" It was unmistakably Ron that hurled the insult and the object at the wolf and Harry's brain washed full of thoughts in the brief moment of pause when the barbeque tongs hit the animal's dark, mattered coat. Black eyes narrowed and the wolf turned, its tail hooked and its hackles raised, with a rumbling growl that tore through the night the animal leaped and made for the redhead. Cho screamed and Harry was aware of only noise as he shut his eyes tightly and allowed the girl to pull him underneath the wooden table. Hermione's shrill cries and the subsequent shriek from Ron made Harry's stomach heave and he clutched at the trembling girl next to him.

"Everybody get inside now!" Harry opened his eyes when his father's voice screamed the order, his tone lilting with fear and apprehension, Harry wanted to crawl from under the table and run to the man but something caught his attention, it was the wolf. Dark fur was wet with an equally dark liquid and its eyes were trained on Harry, yellow teeth slick with blood caught the boy's attention. Was Ron okay? Did the wolf kill him? It was odd how worried Harry was for Ron, considering they had only known one another for a month and a half. The wolf snapped its jaws and growled deeply, Cho uttered a scream that was smothered by her hands.

"Harry, get out from under there and get inside!" James called from the doorway, ushering the frightened neighbours into his house while he did so, Harry didn't spare his father a glance, he didn't even acknowledge he had heard the man – his entire world was centered down to the black beast in front of him and the shaking girl behind him. His breaths left his tongue in harsh, searing gasps; he kept his eyes trained on the advancing wolf, watching each graceful movement.

James cried out again and this time Harry could hear his mother yelling his name and Cho's, it didn't matter – he wouldn't make it even if he did decide to make a run for it, the wolf was too close now, so close Harry could smell the mangy scent of sweat and blood and mud, it mingled around the animal and Harry almost gagged. Icy fingers gripped his bicep and Harry flinched, "Harry, we need to get inside." Cho stated and her voice shook and wobbled even as her eyes sparked with resolve, Harry shook his head and the girl's mouth fell into a frown.

"It's too close –" his words were cut off by the roaring bark that nearly deafened him, the hot breath of the animal rushed against his face and Harry gave a startled yell, kicking his body backward away from the wolf. Cho was ripping at his t-shirt, pulling the material hard enough to stretch it, the wolf's jaws were open and the teeth glistened with saliva, Harry knew they had to get out from under the table; the wolf would only squeeze under.

"Move," he grunted at Cho, pushing at the girl's body, "go run –" Cho's eyes were large and she stared at the wolf which snarled and heaved its body forcefully, attempting to fit underneath the table.

"Where?" Cho questioned and Harry nearly yelled at her, he instead hastily coaxed the girl to move out from under the table and scrambled out himself, the large wolf gave a short howl and then leaped onto the top of the table, its paws caked with mud and its long claws scratching at the wood, peeling the paint off. Harry took a deep breath, ignoring the yells from his mother and father, with quick movements Harry grabbed Cho by the wrist and took off at a sprint, leaving behind his house for the dim light of the street.

"Harry no! James – do something!"

"Cho – my baby girl…"

The wailing cries from both of the adolescents' parents ripped the night in two and Harry almost sobbed when he heard the pounding footfalls of the wolf. It was pursuing them. Pushing his body forward and quickening his pace Harry dragged the puffing girl behind him, hoping they could make it someplace safe. His sneakers slapped at the ground and his breathing was oddly loud in his own ears, he caught the sound of the panting wolf and dared to turn around – it was right on them scarcely a meter behind, its legs stretching far with each stride, if Harry hadn't been a fast runner he would have been caught by now.

"Harry – it's _coming_!" Cho yelled and her voice was piercing despite her lack of breath, Harry made a sharp turn into a side street, pulling the girl with him ruthlessly, Cho gasped in pain but continued to run with him, her long hair was wild and flowing behind her in a curtain of dark silk. The wolf snarled and dogged their every move, it was then that Harry realized it was playing with them; a full grown wolf could surely have had him by now. Turning his head Harry looked passed Cho and watched the wolf, it was running with its tongue lolled out the corner of its mouth, its dark eyes narrowed and ears alert.

"It's toying with us," Harry panted to Cho and the girl looked confused for all of two seconds before realization dawned on her. "We have to find someplace to hide before it gets serious!" Harry's heart spluttered painfully in his chest when the wolf trailing them howled, its voice low, and then a deep, shuddering growl rumbled through the wolf's body, its ears flat to its skull and Harry knew now that the animal was dead serious. It was as though it had known Harry had caught on to its little game. But that was impossible, it was a wolf.

Cho's hand wrenched itself from his hold and she took off ahead of him, leaving Harry behind in the dark side street, he turned, stopping in his tracks to face the wolf. A menacing glare meet his own wide-eyed gaze and Harry shivered from the look of utter enjoyment on the wolf's face, Ron's blood still covered the animal's chin and teeth, a chilling sight that made Harry's blood run ice cold. Swallowing Harry realized he was officially stuck, if he ran now his back would be turned for the wolf to take its moment to attack and if he stayed still the wolf would do so anyway.

"Harry, baby, where are you?" Harry's head shot up and he looked around the dim street, his mother's voice was on edge. The wolf made a snarling sound and its teeth were bared at Harry threateningly. Not daring to call back to his mother and run the risk of putting her in danger Harry crouched down, trying to make himself as small as possible – if he wasn't considered a threat then maybe the wolf would back off? At least that's what he hoped. He felt exposed crouching low on the ground; his hands steadying his shaking body against the ground. The wolf stopped its snarling and tilted its head, studying the boy as if perplexed.

Footsteps sounded not far off and then another voice called for him, "Harry, mate? Where are you?" it was his father and Harry sobbed in relief, he sounded close.

The wolf tensed and its eyes shifted between Harry and something behind the boy, slowly Harry turned his head, making sure not to make any sudden movements, behind him was his father, a silver handgun weighing down his hand – it was pointed directly at the wolf. Harry held his breath – the wolf barked harshly and the gun went off. The last coherent thought Harry had was that his father must have missed his target because the sharp pain in his leg hurt like a son of a bitch. His green eyes rolled back into his head and he fell unconscious.


	2. Dawn of the Werewolf

Harry's head pounded with a rush of blood that roared in his ears, he groaned woozily and squeezed his already shut eyes tighter closed. His entire body was aching and his bones burned as though they were on fire. What was wrong with him? Harry groaned softly and took a steadying breath, his hands reflexively bunched handfuls of his covers and he inhaled the sweet, fresh scent of clean linen.

His headache diminished somewhat and the boy continued to breathe deeply, calming his hurting body with each inhalation. Slowly and carefully Harry opened his eyes, surprised to find himself in his room, the curtains pulled closed and the lamp on his bedside table casting its orange hues across the bedroom walls. With a quick intake of air Harry's memories flooded into awareness and he sat up straight in his bed, the covers bunching at his waist. Without thought the boy pulled back the blankets and checked his throbbing leg, expecting to see a bullet wound embedded in his flesh, instead there was a large gash just below his left knee, it had been cleaned, showing the torn skin around the wound. Harry's blood clotted thickly over the slash and was dark crimson. He hadn't been shot!

"Was I bitten?" the boy mused out loud and touched his fingertips to the angry looking scab, it smarted and he hissed a breath through his teeth. Deciding not to torture himself Harry left the injury alone and stretched his back, hearing a satisfying crack that immediately made him feel more awake. He was relieved that he was in the safety of his room and not in some dark street facing down a wolf however the stirrings of unease held tight to his lungs and Harry wondered frantically if everyone else was alright – if Ron was still alive.

Swinging his legs out of bed Harry stood, ignoring the sharp pain that bit at his injured leg, he had more pressing matters to deal with. The boy hastily stumbled to the door, his jeans unravelling at the legs to fall passed his knees, Harry frowned at the tear in the left leg – these were his favourite pair of pants.

Panting from the strain to get down the stairs Harry stopped midway and gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles turning white. His leg was being a bitch and with every step his muscle tightened and cramped on him, causing the boy to writhe in pain. His laboured breathing caught in his chest when he heard the swell of voices from the kitchen, eyes wide and palms sweaty, Harry clambered down the remaining stairs as stealthily as possible.

The wooden door was thin enough for Harry to hear past and the boy pressed his ear up to the surface, holding his breath and listening carefully. He wasn't quite sure why he was eavesdropping; perhaps it was the secretive murmur of the voices behind the door, or the occasional chair being roughly pushed back across the tiled floor.

"– can't be sure, Lily." His father was saying, his voice rumbling deeply as the man kept his sound down; Harry pressed his slight body closer. The unmistakable noise of a coffee cup hitting the table top caught Harry's ears and then his mother spoke up.

"Might be best…just to be certain, we don't know for sure." Harry's dark brows furrowed deeply, try as he might he couldn't hear every single word said. His mother's voice in particular was difficult to catch for it was light and hushed.

A chair being adjusted and scrapped across the ground made Harry freeze, hoping they weren't coming his way. "We'll have to keep an eye on him, Lily – don't want to panic…may have just been a wolf."

"Of course it was a bloody wolf," Harry mouthed noiselessly, "it wasn't a big dog!"

"– should take him to the hospital, James. You know who it was."

_ Who what was? _

"Not tonight, let him rest…check him out tomorrow and see what I can do."

Suddenly the scrapping sound of chairs and identical sighs sounded and Harry scampered away from the door, hobbling unsteadily on his feet and hoping to put some distance between the door and himself. The kitchen door swung open on its hinges and Harry turned as casually as he could to regard his parents. His mother's face looked shocked for a fraction of a second before splitting into a huge smile, one that made Harry's heart swell and burst with contentment.

"Harry, sweetie, I thought you'd still be asleep. How are you feeling?" Lily asked gently and took hold of Harry's wrists, her thumbs soothing comforting patterns over his skin. His father nodded and gave Harry a lopsided grin, however, his hazel eyes gave away the concern he so nonchalantly pushed aside. Harry shrugged. Truth be told he felt like crap.

Frowning his mother tugged him toward the kitchen. "How about some tea to settle your nerves?" she offered and didn't wait for a reply before getting to work boiling the jug, Harry slumped down at the table. From the doorway Harry noticed his father staring intently at him, feeling rather self-conscious under the unwavering gaze Harry scratched at the back of his neck and coughed. James dropped his eyes and watched his wife busy herself.

The room was thick with tension and Harry couldn't place why that was. His throat bubbled with the many questions he wanted to pose, but he kept silent and fiddled with the edge of the table, watching his bitten nail pick at the polished wood. "Don't scratch at the table, Harry," chided Lily quietly and placed down his cup of tea, the warm liquid steamed and smelled sweet and sugary. "Drink up, bubby." Harry flicked his eyes to his father and watched a crooked, half smile tug the man's lips upwards at the pet name.

Taking one long, scalding gulp from the cup Harry swallowed and was thankful for the hot trail the liquid left down his throat, it warmed him and he felt calmer. "What happened to, Ron?" he asked suddenly, catching his parent's off guard. Lily swallowed her sip of her own tea but James bet her to the answer.

"Just a nasty bite to his arm, Molly and Arthur took him to the hospital." His father looked uncomfortable and Harry's stomach twisted itself into a ball, he let out a whoosh of air through his nose. Poor Ron, he was the only one who had the guts to stand up to the wolf.

Taking another large mouthful of his tea Harry steadied his thoughts. "And everyone else? They got away okay, right?" he was aware of how young and afraid he sounded and winced inwardly. He was seventeen; he shouldn't sound like a frightened seven-year-old. His mother reached across the small table and grasped his hand in her own.

"Everyone else is alright, bubby. A bit shaken up, but that is expected." The swirling feeling of dread loosened in his chest and he felt better, his mother's calm gaze and warm touch helped also. "You should get some sleep, it's late."

Harry nodded his agreement, only realizing how sleepy he was feeling, "I got bitten." It wasn't a question, moreover a statement and his mother nodded, her eyes sad, lines appeared around her frowning lips and she adverted her stare. Harry was confused at her reaction. Surely a bite wasn't so bad. It hurt like hell, but it wasn't like he had been mangled or killed.

"Bed time, champ." His father said firmly and helped Harry to his feet, ignoring the boy's protest about his half full tea cup.

 

* * *

 

"Alright, lift your leg up, mate." Harry sighed for the umpteenth time that morning and lifted his leg so that his father could get a better view at the bite mark. James had insisted Harry wake up early the next morning and got to disinfecting the wound with alcohol, which to Harry's annoyance burned like fire. He now sat sprawled out on the sofa, his legs resting over his father's lap. The bright morning light shone in through the large living room windows, warming Harry's skin nicely and making him sleepy. Only the sharp pain of his leg kept him from falling asleep.

His father swiped at the scabbed over gash with a wet piece of paper towel, Harry hissed in warning and his leg flinched. "Sorry, mate. Almost done." Promised his father and dug the towel into the wound once more, cleaning away any dirt left.

Harry gritted his teeth. "You already washed it with alcohol, why do you need to do _that_!" Harry's voice jumped up a few octaves and the older man gave a chuckle, patting his son's leg in apology. He then bunched up the wet towel and pushed the boy's legs off his lap.

"If it's not clean it could get infected, Harry. I'm just making sure that doesn't happen." He explained calmly, despite this being the fifth time he had said the exact same sentence to the boy. Harry grumbled something under his breath and relaxed back onto the cushions. His mother had attempted to get his father to take him to the hospital, however, after a brief, whispered conversation the pair had decided against it. Harry hadn't spotted his mum since she had wondered off to clean up the garden – apparently having twenty odd people all rushing away from a wolf makes quite a mess. Harry was in half a mind to go help her, but the late morning sun was too warm and he closed his eyes sleepily.

"You tired, Harry?" Harry lazily opened his eyes and peered up at his father through his fringe, James' eyes were pinched, he looked wary. Harry shook his head and the fraught expression cleared from his father’s face. "Good, lad." Harry smiled at the rough tone, wondering why his father had been so on edge this morning. Perhaps he was just uneasy about last night. Harry still was.

The shrill jingle of his mobile startled Harry and he rolled sleepily off the couch and on to the ground, crawling over to the coffee table he grabbed the vibrating silver object and flipped it open, the blue light was bright to his eyes even in the daylight. "Hullo?" he answered.

"Harry, mate? It's Ron, how are you?" Harry was awake instantaneously and a big smile stretched his lips, Ron must be much better if he was making phone calls.

"I'm okay, how about you? Dad said you took a pretty nasty bite." 'Pretty nasty' was an understatement, Harry had seen the amount of blood staining the wolf’s mouth and chin, Ron was a lucky son of a bitch.

A small chuckle came from the redhead's end. "Yeah, it was sick as. Got down to my bone, you should have seen it!" Harry's stomach did flips of unease and he scowled, he didn't think he'd like to have seen it.

"All good now?" he asked as casually as possible, he didn't want to seem too soft in front of Ron, even though he doubted the boy would mind much. The line was silent for a moment and then Ron's voice mumbled something, clearly to someone at his end.

"Sorry, Ginny's being a prick, keeps talking to me, and yeah all good now mate."

"Your families there? You should be talking to them, not me." Harry said lightly and Ron made a grunting noise, Harry pushed off the floor and back onto the sofa watching out of the windows, he could see his mother digging around in the garden, obviously she had finished cleaning up.

"They have been here all morning." Ron groaned, "I need someone sane to talk to," the smile in his tone was evident and Harry gave a chortle. "What happened to the wolf? I was out cold not long after being bitten."

Harry frowned, he hadn't actually thought to ask what had become of the wolf, and he had presumed his father had shot it. "I'm not sure what happened to it. It chased me and Cho a fair way though and the dad came to help – think he shot it." Harry finished uncertainly, Ron whistled lowly.

"It chased you? Fuck, that must have been barmy."

"It wasn't fun – that's for sure. I can't believe there was a wolf." Harry said and relaxed back into the sofa, his eyes lazily following his mother's movements as she gardened.

"Middleton is surrounded by forest and hills, Harry; it's kind of not unusual for there to be animals." Ron stated.

Harry rolled his eyes, "I know that, Ron. But a wolf? Isn't that kind of odd, even if there are forests?"

The redhead snorted and laughed quietly, "Might have been a werewolf, it was a full moon last night." He joked and then snorted again; Harry couldn't help grinning at Ron's odd laugh. However, the tight sensation in his stomach that had lingered ever since last night roiled and Harry found himself shivering.

"I've got to go, mate. Talk soon, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry responded before the line when dead. He heaved a breath and arched his back in a stretch, entertaining the idea of the wolf actually being a werewolf – it was absurd of course, werewolves didn't exist. The image of the large wolf flashed in Harry's mind and simultaneously his injury gave a sharp ache, Harry gasped and bit his bottom lip.

 

* * *

 

The flashing lights from the television were interrupting Harry's reading; thankfully his mum had taken pity on him and had the volume down low. Harry flipped through his book, reading quickly and basking in the feeling of being full with a vegetable casserole his mother had made for dinner – much to his father’s disappointment. The news man was talking seriously about something or another and Harry wouldn't have paid much attention if his mother hadn't clicked the volume up louder.

"– Reports today that a young child, whose name is withheld by the family’s wishes, was tragically killed in a horrendous attack that saw the young girls throat ripped out by a 'big dog'." The reported paused after finishing his sentence and James took the pause to speak, however, Lily cut him off.

"Fenrir…"

Harry looked confusedly at his mother who had gone ashen, her hands covering her gaping mouth. Harry sat up straighter in his chair.

"Who's Fenrir?" he asked inquisitively and peered at his mother through his wayward bangs. She didn't look his way, but continued to stare at the television screen. The blue glow from the news show making her face look ghostly.

"Lily, why don't we change the channel?" James commented firmly and sent a look that Harry couldn't decipher towards the pale woman. Fumbling with the remote Lily switched the channel to some uninteresting game show, Harry's attention diminished and he buried his nose in his book once more, missing the meaningful look his parent's shared.

When silence, save for the hum of the television, reined Harry looked up, put out to see both his parent's sitting stiffly on the sofa. "What's the matter?" he asked and they snapped their attention toward Harry, both plastering on fake smiles that Harry saw right through.

"Nothing, sweetie, just a little disturbed about the were – uh, the dog attack, is all." Harry frowned towards his mum and she gave a tight laugh, "nothing to bother about, bubby." She said and his dad nodded his agreement.

Harry flashed a small smile and pretended to be satisfied. He was anything but. It wasn't often his parent's took a news story to heart, sure they would frown about it and discuss things over coffee in the mornings but never had he seen his mum so putout. Something was off and Harry intended to figure it out. His mum and dad had been acting strangely ever since Harry had been bitten. Did they think him weak for being attack by a wolf?

A sharp rap at the front door startled the three of them and they jerked to attention in unison. Harry jumped to his feet and jogged to open the front door, anything to get away from the odd atmosphere of the living room. When he pulled the door open he was shocked into a hitched breath that caught somewhere between his chest and throat, it hurt, but Harry daren't take his eyes away from the imposing sight before him. A large, burly man stood on the door step, his broad shoulders draped in a leather jacket that was worn and old. Long, shaggy black hair fell to the man's elbows and Harry nibbled on his lip when dark, coal eyes locked with his.

The man smiled and Harry noticed the slow leer revealed a set of dirty teeth. For a long moment neither one of them said a word, the silence stretching thickly between them. Then Harry heard his mother call out and his breath escaped his lips with a gush.

"Harry, who is it?" She came around the corner and stopped dead in her tracks, something told Harry it wasn't the man's overwhelming stature that had caused her reaction. The man inclined his head stiffly towards Lily and Harry watched in awe as she did the same in reply. "Wolfe." She sniffed disdainfully. It was such a different side of his mother it astounded Harry and he didn't realize that his father had entered the parlour.

"A pleasure as always, Evans." The man made it sound like anything but a pleasure. Harry took a step backwards towards his mother, feeling like a frightened child hiding from a stranger.

His mother scowled openly. "It's Potter now, we married." A dark gaze swept over Harry and the boy shivered under the scrutiny. It felt like he was bare, naked in front of the man. He dropped his eyes and studied his feet carefully. Not sure why he was acting like a child. He was seventeen damn it.

"Wedlock?" he mocked and made it sound like a trap, Harry narrowed his eyes; he took an instant disliking to the man.

James stepped forward and wrapped a protective arm around Lily's waist, cupping her hip strongly. "What do you want, Wolfe?" he asked and Harry swallowed hard at the deep, harsh sound of his dad's voice. He wasn't used to seeing either of his parent's so tense. It unnerved him.

The large man chuckled and crossed his arms across his thick chest, "just thought I'd come get a glimpse of my _pup_." He drawled slowly. Lily stepped forward and raised her finger as if in warning, her lips open ready to spew forth a reprimand, James stopped her and flicked his gaze to watch Harry, something in his father's eyes made Harry's stomach drop. The man looked afraid of him and Harry hated seeing such an emotion on his dad's face.

"Calm yourself, Lily. Wolfe, I'm asking you to leave immediately. If you do not I will call the police." Harry's head hurt; apparently he was the only one who didn't know what was happening. He hated it.

"I doubt they could do much against me." Wolfe said cockily and looked down his nose at Harry, watching the small boy before him glare and stare right back. "I'll see you again, pup." He said to Harry and then turned to leave. The door closed with a bang that brought Harry into speech.

"Who was –?"

"Go to your room, Harry." Harry looked incredulously at his father. _What?_

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, uncertain, "but, I want to –"

"Now Harry!" The fierce gleam in the hazel eyes was enough to put the boy on edge and he sulkily took to the stairs, making sure to thump up each step heavily so as to show his parent's he wasn't a happy boy. Before reaching the top he caught wind of his mother speaking quietly.

"– he will come back…been confirmed, we have to act quickly…"

Act quickly about what? And what had been confirmed? Harry's irritation burned and he sighed, slamming his bedroom door shut with force before flopping onto his bed.

He hated his life sometimes.


	3. Flight of the Pup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenrir is in this chapter! ;)

"Harry breakfast is ready!" Sang Lily cheerfully from the bottom of the stairs, Harry mumbled something disjointed and shoved his head under his pillow. He wasn't about to just forget the unfair way his parent's had ushered him away last night, neither was he going to let slide Mr. Wolfe or what the hell that man had meant. Harry stomach growled at him and Harry mentally promised it some bacon when he got dressed – _bacon_?

"Fucking hell, what is wrong with me?" Harry questioned to the room and sat up, his pillow falling to the floor. He hated meat, and bacon was definitely no exception. Where had such a craving come from? Climbing out of bed Harry grabbed for his jeans, wincing when the small action made his muscles seize up. His brain twirled in his skull and Harry thought he might throw up, leaning heavily on his dresser the boy gasped for some air to calm his queasy stomach. "Get a grip, Harry."

Throwing on his clothes and rushing down stairs Harry met with his mother and father who were sitting at the kitchen table. His dad seemed engrossed in the newspaper and his mum was chewing on a strip of bacon, Harry stomach gurgled loudly and he inhaled the scent of freshly cooked, crispy bacon. He didn't know what had come over him, but suddenly he really, _really_ wanted some. His mouth was watering and he sat heavily at the table.

"Your toast is on the bench, sweetie." His mum said and smiled at Harry. Harry shifted until she raised one elegant eyebrow in askance, "something the matter?"

Harry picked at the table, running his thumb tip along the smooth wood, "No, not really, I was just thinking I would have some bacon instead." To his right his dad coughed and fumbled with the newspaper, his fingers gripping the edges so hard Harry feared it might tear in half.

Emerald eyes meet hazel and Harry noticed the silent communication his parent's shared.

"Are you sure, Harry? You've never eaten meat before. What if you don't like it?" His mum's eyes were bright with some unnamed emotion and Harry felt like she was pleading silently with him not to have any. His stomach twisted in hunger and he stood up, walking over to the bench.

Grabbing an empty plate Harry flashed his mum a smile, "if I don't like it, dad can have it." He said simply and laid two pieces of bacon on his plate. Sitting back down Harry was more than aware of his parent's watching him carefully, each movement he made was studied and Harry almost wished he could snap at them and tell them not to stare. He quelled his annoyance, wondering where the sudden flare of emotion had come from and placed his teeth around the bacon, biting into it cleanly. The taste was pure bliss and he moaned happily. How come he hadn't tried bacon before? It was mouth-watering.

"Can I have more?" he queried after he finished his two strips and without waiting for an answer jumped up to grab a plateful of the delicious meat. Dimly, Harry was aware that his father was watching him with anxious eyes and his mother was colourless, but it wasn't concerning him when he had such delicious food in front of him.

"Maybe you should slow down, mate?" his father joked, but the tone was more troubled. Harry looked up confused. A sound on the doorstep caught his attention and he perked up.

"Someone's at the door." He said through a mouthful of bacon, his father’s hazel eyes narrowed in puzzlement before they widened at the sound of sharp knocking at the front door. His mum jumped quickly to her feet, staring at him in a way that made Harry's tummy plummet.

"How did you know –" his father stopped mid-sentence and Harry's neck snapped around when the sound of his mum's muffled scream met his ears. "Lily!" James called and got to his feet, his eyes shifty, a breath of a second later the piercing cry of a shotgun rang out, tearing through the house. Harry dropped his food and ran for the front door.

"MUM!"

The gripping claws of panic clutched at Harry's heart, squeezing so tightly he felt he might pass out. His skin felt blistered with shards of glass and every part of his body was humming with adrenaline. With wide eyes the boy ran into the small parlour, his breathing caught in his throat and the silent scream that climbed from his twisting stomach parted his lips. Scarlet ribbons of blood dribbled down the white walls, leaving tear trails in their wake. The soft carpet was stained under a pool of cooling blood and Harry dropped to his knees with a strangled cry beside the lifeless figure of his mother, her lips were open in a frozen gasp and her bright green eyes fixed unseeingly toward the ceiling. If it wasn't for the opening in the back of her head and the blood rushing freely from it, Harry would have overlooked the small bullet wound that decorated her forehead, dead-on between her eyes. A single trail of blood trickled down the woman's nose and over her bloodless lips.

The hasty footfalls of his father made Harry look around, the man's hair was skewed and his eyes blazed with anger. "Get on your stomach, Harry! Now!" Harry didn't question the order and flopped down belly first, a moment later the blasting echo of a gun rang out and a bullet lodged itself into the wall next to Harry, shattering the plaster and sending debris into the air. Looking up the boy saw a group of men; all of them wore leather and held handguns and they were all pointing unswervingly at Harry.

"Back up!" ordered James and Harry pressed his small body into the ground, hating how the carpet squelched under his palms, wet with his mother's blood. The men didn't recoil at the commanding voice; they hadn't taken their eyes off of Harry. Harry felt his father come closer, the man's heavy breathing the only sign he was livid. "I said, back up." Harry shivered at the whisper and panted, his eyes trying to avoid the sight of his mother's corpse. He could smell the stench of blood and brain tissue, and bile rushed up from his throat, burning his mouth as he threw up.

"We won't. Not until this mutt is killed." Harry jerked his body when the tallest man waved his weapon at him, "it didn't have to be this way, James." The man stated and motioned a careless hand toward the insipid, motionless, Lily. Harry choked on a sob and pushed his body into a kneel. The men tightened their grips and their stances became wary.

"You knew your son was turned, we gave you time to deal with it, instead you ignored it. _It_ is a monster, James. A hunter like you ought to know that by now." _Hunter?_ Harry head hurt and he whimpered, turning to face his father, the man's hands trembled and Harry noticed the silver handgun he held. Inquiring green eyes looked up at the tall man. James seemed to be debating something, his lips drawn into a thin line and his eyes narrowed, loud breaths pushed from his nose.

"D – Dad?" Harry said and his voice was gravelly, his throat hurt from throwing up, "what are they talking about?" A deep chuckle crammed the room and Harry flinched when a gun cocked and aimed at him. His father didn't move, not to point his own gun nor to stop the men in their actions.

The tall man moved closer to the kneeling boy, "he doesn't know?" he said and another chuckle left his mouth, "the _mutt_ doesn't know what he is?" Harry saw from the corner of his eye his dad shifting, his dad was unsure and that made Harry's body ache with alarm. "I'll tell him then shall I?" the man leant forward, his gun still aimed straight and true, "guess what little boy," he taunted, "you're a werewolf." He growled mockingly and then took a sudden step forward, touching the cold mouth of the gun between Harry's eyes.

"And because daddy dearest didn't deal with you properly, he has to watch as his family is killed." Harry's insides felt like they were on fire and he growled, his lips sneering back to show his teeth. He wasn't sure why such an action happened but the man's eyes flickered with something akin to fear and Harry growled again, deeper this time. "Get the bloody rope, you fools!" the man snapped and the three men behind him lumbered out the door.

"First I'm going to tie you up, _dog_ , and then I will show you just how precise I can be with a knife." Harry's chest hurt and his stomach was clenching painfully. He didn't know if it was from his terror but he snapped his jaws and snarled, his body sweating profusely as he did so. The man gave a loud chuckle and drew back his arm, ready to strike the boy before him. Harry's eyes burned and he wondered what the hell was happening to him. The man swiped his hand through the air and Harry lunged, his teeth bared and mouth open, before either hunter or boy could make sense of the situation Harry had clamped the man's wrist securely in his mouth.

"You fucking mutt!" the man yelled and wrenched his arm backwards, Harry was dragged forward with the movement and bit down harder, his teeth piercing the skin, hot blood swelled into his mouth and tickled his tongue with the taste of copper. Harry swallowed the liquid eagerly before a sharp pain bloomed in his right temple – he whimpered before he passed out. His last thought wondering why his father hadn't done anything to help him. The boy's limp body fell over that of his mother's.

* * *

 

Harry's wrists hurt, they burned and he groaned when he realized he couldn't move them. Strong rope had been fastened around his thin wrists, tying them behind his back awkwardly; it chaffed his delicate skin and rubbed it raw. His ankles were bound in a similar manner. Harry opened his eyes only to shut them quickly, the face of his mother was right before him, her lips were blue and her eyes seemed clouded. The wound on her forehead was bruising. It disturbed him how death could take her so quickly; how it could taint her with its cold hands. Her typically lively eyes were so empty now and her skin was ashen, almost grey and waxy. It made Harry's gut churn and he feared he would vomit again.

A shuffling sound made the boy snap his eyes open, "well, it looks like the mutt is awake. Time to have our fun." Harry tried to sit up when a pair of boots entered his line of vision but his head pained and he fell limp on the ground, a small whine on his lips. The hunters laughed at him and Harry felt tears burn at his eyes. A rough hand forcefully dragged Harry up into a sitting position and he was placed against the wall, the sticky feel of his mother's cold blood seeped into his t-shirt.

Blinking to clear away the white dots that had appeared in front of him Harry looked up, the man who had hit him leered down at him, and a knife was held in his hand, its hoary blade glistened. "What first, mutt? Shall I pull out your nails or pierce your veins?" Harry threw his head from side to side and gave a sob, it only served to make the men surrounding him laugh louder. The blades tip was placed against Harry's smooth cheek violently, and slowly, with obvious relish, the hunter drew a line downwards, the skin split easily under the slight pressure and then crimson cried from the abrasion, coating Harry's face red.

"Stop," Harry made sure not to make a noise, he didn't want the men to know how much it had hurt. At the sound of his father's voice the boy looked up sharply. Standing at the end of the stair case and completely unharmed was his dad. "Don't do _this_."

The hunter sneered at Harry but didn't turn around to face James. "You know what he is, we can't let him live." To Harry's horror his father agreed with a nod of his head, his lips frowning.

"I know, but you don't need to torture him. Just be done with it."

"This mutt is the reason your wife lay dead in her own home, and you're telling me to take mercy on him." James' hazel eyes flashed with grief and his nostrils flared, the man refused to look down at the sprawled form of his wife. Bloodied and defeated because of her own child.

Harry let his lips tremble at that. "I'm not a mutt!" he stated and was proud when his voice didn't tremble. The knife was brought up to his throat, directly over his jugular, Harry's pulse quickened and his skin jumped with tiny beats.

"Do you know how fast someone bleeds out when their jugular is cut?" Harry glared at the hunter, hating the feel of the man's breath against his face, "one minute and you're brain dead, not long after that your body dies too. Blood loss is an agonizing thing. You'll vomit and suffocate and your organs will slowly die." The blade pressed into his skin, a sharp pain blossomed and Harry hissed, his green eyes hastening to swirl with intermingled amber. The hunter paid no attention to the colour of Harry's eyes and instead begun moving the knife. Harry cried out as the sharp edge bit into his skin, drawing a pattern over the pale, sensitive flesh.

"You're a special one, boy. You have merged with your wolf side numerous times since I've been here. You'll make a strong werewolf – or should I say you _would_ have made a strong werewolf. I don't plan on letting you live." The knife was brought away from his skin and Harry breathed out heavily, the pain now soothing slightly, it was short lived however and he gave a shout when the knife was brought down, stabbing the boy in the gut. For a moment Harry felt nothing and then his senses caught up to him and his abdomen screamed with pain, his skin and muscles seemed to split in half and blood rushed to the surface of the wound with frightening speed.

"Son of a bitch!" Harry heard his father yell and then a squelchy sound met his ears, a moment later his father had fallen to his knees, hands clutching his abdomen and mouth gaping. "Harry," the man said breathlessly and Harry groaned in pain, his t-shirt wet with blood.

"I told you not to interfere, James." Harry's mouth was moving, silently screaming for his father who fell forward, his shaking body held up on unsteady arms, James coughed and the wet sound of blood in his throat made Harry want to run to his side. His rope bonds were too tight and he forced his voice to yell loudly – unintelligible, screaming words left his tongue. He was twisting his hurting and bleeding body at angels to loosen his restraints but it was in vain. He hoped the neighbours had heard his yells and the gun shots, surely they had? Why wasn't any one coming to help?

"Shut the fuck up, mutt!" shouted one of the hunters and kicked out at Harry, the boy whined pathetically in pain and slumped over onto his side, his abdomen was bleeding profusely and Harry wondered when he would faint from blood loss. "Give me the gun; I'll end its life now." Harry's head spun in circles and his fingers and toes were getting cold, he was hemorrhaging out. His heart was raging against his ribs, desperately wanting more blood, more oxygen.

The corpse of his mother and his writhing form of his father was in his direct line of vision. "Say a prayer, mutt." The mouth of the gun was placed once more to Harry's head, and the boy shut his eyes and sobbed brokenly. Four shots rang out in quick succession and Harry jerked his body in response. The sharp pain of a gun falling into his face made him open his eyes and he watched with dethatched horror as the hunter standing over him sunk to his knees, a red rose blossoming on his chest, right over his heart. He'd been shot.

"Please – please take my son…someplace safe." Harry's eyes were heavy and half lidded with exhaustion when he turned them to the sound of his father's raspy voice. The man was staring at a large man, whose silver-blond hair fell to his shoulders in a tangle. Narrowed, ocher eyes faced Harry and the boy whined quietly at the man, knowing instantly he was a werewolf. The strong untamed scent of danger was thick around the man. "Fenrir – please, _please_ …"

_Fenrir? Who was he?_

_How had the man got here? Why was he here?_

"I came here to finish off the hunters who were threatening my pack, not to help out some wayward hunter."

James coughed and blood spilled from his lips, dribbling down his chin, "he was turned – turned by…"

"Wolfe. I know I can smell his scent on the pup."

"Wolfe – Wolfe can't – he can't look after, Harry." James said weakly and Harry watched as tremors of pain shot through the man's hunched figure. The werewolf, Fenrir, was watching James with an emotionless expression, a black handgun was held in his right hand by his side. Harry whimpered when he saw the fallen forms of the hunters, each shot through the heart. It was a gruesome sight, but strangely it calmed the boy in knowing the biggest danger was no more.

"Wolfe _won't_ look after the boy. He's a lone wolf. He shouldn't have even turned the kid."

James shook his head and grimaced in pain, shooting Harry an aggrieved look, "he came to the house, looking for _his_ pup." James said as loudly as possible and slumped over with a wracking cough. Fenrir flashed his attention to Harry, who arched his back in pain, his insides felt watery and squishy. Fenrir approached him and Harry stifled a cough that climbed his throat. The man was huge and all muscle.

"When?" The werewolf bit out through gritted teeth.

"Last night, he bit him not a day ago – I've – I've seen the signs, he's changing quickly." James stated dimly, his voice a mere whisper of sound. Harry was surprised he had caught the words. Fenrir crouched down next to Harry, running disdainful eyes over the dead form of the hunter and the stiff figure of Lily. The werewolf seemed oblivious to the blood. "Please keep him safe."

Fenrir reached out and Harry felt the ropes loosen before snapping off his wrists, he sighed a pant of relief and gingerly moved his hands over his middle, protecting his wounded body. "A _hunter_ pleading with a _werewolf_ to protect his _turned_ son. How very touching." Harry's ankles were released by a slash of the man's nail; the nail itself looked more like a claw.

Harry moaned when the werewolf placed his hands over the stab wound and James hissed in warning. "If Wolfe get's him…Greyback, you can't let him. He'll destroy Harry."

"And most the werewolf population if the pup is indeed his sired sub." Harry didn't know what was happening, he didn't really want to know, all he knew was that his abdomen was throbbing and his head pounded from lack of blood, his vision kept blurring on him and he whined like a puppy in distress. Fenrir pushed his palms to the wound to stop the flow of blood and turned to James. "What makes you think he'll be safe with me? I'm no saint. If I take him, I'll only be putting myself and my pack in danger."

James looked up, his eyes dull and skin pallid, Harry sobbed and reached out his hand towards his dad. The man gave a small, lopsided smile to Harry. "Compared to Wolfe, you're a saint." He said hoarsely and his shoulders dropped, Harry's hand reached further over the blood stained carpet.

"Dad?" he said timidly, ignoring the amber eyes that burned into him, watching him intently. "Dad – dad please…" James looked up, the simple action seemed to drain him of strength and his lips moved soundlessly. Harry's cheeks were hot with his tears and he wriggled, wanting to get closer to his dad. "Dad," he didn't care that his voice broke or that he sounded like a child, he was afraid and his father was slipping away from him, someplace Harry couldn't bring him back from.

Fenrir tightened his hold on Harry and pushed him down, quelling the boy's words with a harsh glare. "Harry," James rasped, "I'm sorry – love – love you, mate." He trained his eyes on Fenrir and his eyes were over bright with tears, "please, Fenrir," he said and Harry sobbed at the hush of his father's normally vocal voice. Fenrir growled and Harry cried out loudly when his father slumped against the ground, his body motionless and his chest still. A puddle of blood dripped steadily from his slightly parted lips.

Harry's body went numb and his heart exploded with misery. "Dad! NO!" he tried to fight off the werewolf and crawl to his dad, slapping at the large hands that held his body. His stomach lurched and stabbed with pain and Harry once again fell into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. His dad's lifeless body the last thing he saw and the smell of fresh death and blood thick to his senses.

 


End file.
